


Icy Waters

by ccjaimet



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 19:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18104699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccjaimet/pseuds/ccjaimet
Summary: They were back together and he'd do anything it took to keep her safe.*Basically, Gendry escapes the red woman and goes back to get Arya, they set off together to reunite her with her family.IMPORTANT - There are no white walkers, I think they're kinda fuckin dumb and they de-rail plots and fuck up character arcs and stories cause they force everyone to become friends or die, so yeah, soz.





	1. Gendry

    Gendry would have his revenge. He had decided that as soon as his hands were bound. He would kill this red woman, and Beric, and Thoros, those bastards had lied to him, sold him, when he had wanted to be their brother. The cart bumped, knocking his head against its side, reminding him of the futility of his vows if he couldn't escape. Arya had been right, he should’ve gone with her, but now there was little chance of that.

 

    He wiggled his wrists experimentally against the bonds, it was no use of course he knew that. The bonds were no looser now than when he’d tried yesterday. He sighed and reclined his head against the wall of the wagon and immediately regretting it, the shaking of the wood threatening to rattle his teeth out.

 

There were three guards, two on horseback, and one driving the wagon. He might be able to take the driver by surprise, but the others would ride him down before he got ten feet. He would simply have to be patient and hope an opportunity would present itself soon.

 

***** (time skip)

 

    He sat on the cart eating in brooding silence as the three soldiers laughed and ate and drank around the campfire, enjoying the warmth. Gendry cut into his meat calmly watching the men get drunk, he didn’t envy them, as he knew it would soon be their undoing. He put the last bite of food into his mouth before slipping the serrated knife up his sleeve. One saw he was finished and stumbled over, tying his hands behind his back once more. The guard barely seemed to notice the empty plate as he wobbled back to his fellows.

 

The men drank and sang late into the night until finally two of them went to sleep and the most sober took up watch over the camp. Now was Gendry’s moment, he shimmied to the edge of the cart and dropped down onto his feet. The guards head whipped around to look at him.

 

“Whad you wan?” He slurred, eyes unfocused in the dim light.

 

“I need a piss” Gendry said, quietly so as not to wake the others. The guard looked confused until Gendry waved his bound hands. The drunk man teetered over and untied him clumsily. The rope dropped and Gendry’s hand moved like lightning, the steak knife sliding into his palm then burying itself in the guard’s neck while his other hand covered his mouth to muffle his screams as he slid to the ground, blood spurting from his wound.

 

Gendry stepped back wiping his shaking hands on his jerkin, the adrenaline of the moment gone, and all he was left with was an awful pit in his stomach, and a tingling in his skin. Shaking his head he quickly took the guard’s sword belt and, buckling it on himself approached one of the horses. Luckily the animal was still saddled and awake, so gendry put one foot in a stirrup and very awkwardly clambered into the saddle.

 

Trying to ignore his complete hopelessness on horseback he urged the beast into a trott and headed back the way they’d been travelling. His mind wandered to the time he’d spent riding with Arya on their way north to the wall. She’d seemed to be one with her pony, never slipping in the saddle, seeming like the centaurs his mother had told him roamed the far east ehan he was a little boy in flea bottom.

 

The memories hurt, and he kicked his horse into a gallop, hoping in vain to outrun his feelings. The shake of his hands subsided, replaced by a numb feeling as he recalled the pained look in Arya’s eyes when he’d told her he wanted to stay with the brotherhood without banners. Now he felt like such an idiot, trusting those bandits. He just hoped she’d still be in the cave when he returned, she deserved an apology.

 

*****

 

    It had taken some time for Gendry to find, but now he sat on a small ridge overlooking the entrance to the brotherhood’s camp. Groups of them had been leaving all day, so by now he reckoned the cave must be mostly empty. He hadn’t spotted Arya in any of the groups so she would, he presumed, still be in the cave.

 

    Once he was sure no more groups would be leaving Gendry started to make his way towards the cave that he’d thought, only days ago, would be his home. Now it only served to remind him of his betrayal by those who dained to call themselves a brotherhood.

 

    Quickly, and luckily without incident, he made his way to a smaller side entrance. He peeked in and saw that it was as he’d expected, and there were only a couple of guards. One was asleep the other sitting, across the cave, facing away from him. He made his way toward the center of the room when he heard the creak of a bowstring being pulled back behind his head.

 

    “Hold it smith boy” Anguay said, “Get those hands away from that sword and above your head” Gendry complied raising his hands.

 

    “You let them sell me” He accused the archer, “ You watched while they traded me for a few sacks of coin” The anger was rising in his now, what right did this liar have to demand anything from him.

 

    “You’re right” Anguay said with a sigh, as if he’d read his thoughts. “You’ve come for the girl I guess.” Gendry nodded, and heard an arrow slide back into its quiver “She’s over there, I think she’s asleep already” He stepped beside Gendry and indicated a small inlet in the cave wall.

 

    Gendry gave the skinny man an inquisitive look, “You won’t stop me?” Anguay shook his head and sat, unslinging his quiver.

 

    “What right’ve I got. Like you said, I betrayed you, let them sell you like cattle.” He reached over to a pile of bags and tossed Gendry a pack. “That should last you two a while. Good luck now” Gendry nodded and creeped over to where Arya was.

 

    As he approached his heart warmed. Her form curled under a thin blanket, her chest rising and falling with gentle breaths. Almost reverently he took her shoulder and shook her awake. Suddenly she was holding a dagger to his throat, the sleeping having apparently been just a ruse. “Arya!” He whisper yelled raising his hands, She seemed to realise then it was him, as her hands started to fall to her sides. “Just me” He said with a lopsided grin. Then her arms were around him.

 

    He hugged her back, firmly, feeling the warmth in his body grow tenfold. “I missed you” She mumbled into his shirt. He rubbed soothing circles into her back, wishing this moment could last forever. Unfortunately they had to leave soon, he reluctantly pulled away.

 

    “We should really be going, the others might be back soon.” Arya nodded and they headed out to Gendry’s horse.

 

    “I want a horse as well” Arya complained, and Gendry had to force himself not to laugh. They’d only been separated a few days, but gods he’d missed her. “I’ll steal one of the brotherhood’s ones”

 

    He shook his head, “They’re all too big for you,” He clambered onto his own horse and extended a hand to Arya. She stood with her arms folded, a all too familiar stubborn look on her face. He sighed, “We’ll get the first pony we find, promise” She smiled triumphantly and let him hoist her up in front of him.

 

    He kept his arm around her waist and urged their mount to a run, heading west toward the setting sun, where he knew he would find the King’s Road. His grasp of Westerosi geography was tenuous at best, and completely nonexistent at worst, but he did know that Riverrun was where the Starks were now, and that it was west of the King’s Road.

 

    They road in silence and Arya pressed her back into him, probably trying to get some rest. It was cut short however when the sun was down completely and the waning moon was not enough to see the trail, especially with the trees thick as they were.

 

    Gendry forded of the trail for a while, much to the displeasure of his horse, until he found a small clearing. It was decently shrouded, from any prying eyes, by the foliage all around them. He swung out of the saddle before lifting Arya down with many complaints that she wasn’t a little girl and could get down on her own. Gendry just laughed, as she knew just as well as him that she was a very little girl, but her stubbornness outweighed logic as usual.

 

    They didn’t even bother to make a fire as they were both exhausted and just curled up under the stars with their thin blankets, and bedrolls. As Gendry closed his eyes he heard Arya reciting her list, he’d heard it so many times by now that it had started to soothe him as well, and he quickly drifted off to sleep.

 

    He almost wished he’d stayed awake.

 

    The dream was terrible, he was stabbing the baratheon guard again. But this time there was nothing muffling his screams. He clutched his ears, dropping the knife, but it did nothing, the screaming only grew louder and more piercing. The blood spurted from his neck endlessly, flowing across the ground toward him. Gendry tried to step back but slipped, then he saw the underbrush was damp with human blood like the morning dew.

 

    Blood poured in cascades from between the trees, the screaming joined by other voices, crying children, bloodcurdling screeching, the roar of a great fire, and an insane, unhinged laughter. It was to much for Gendry and he opened his mouth adding his screams to the deathly chorus. Then someone was shaking his shoulder, and he heard a voice different from the others, softer, and sweeter.

 

    “Gendry!” The voice said, “Gendry wake up!” His eyes shot open and the horrible vision was gone. Arya was looking down at him, worry clear on her face. “Gendry, oh thanks the gods. Are you alright?” He took a second to process the question, still reeling from what he’d seen, but slowly managed to nod.

 

    “I-I think so” she pulled him to her and he rested his head on her small shoulder, feeling the soft rhythm of her breathing helped him  to relax. He’d killed that man, just for the sake of his freedom, he hated it. But he knew then that he would have to kill again, the thought made him shiver. But when Arya started to rub his back like he’d done for her earlier that day, he knew he’d kill any amount of people, and face those dreams every night, if it meant keeping her safe.

 

    He had to keep her safe, no matter what.


	2. Arya

    Arya had been awoken by Gendry’s yelling. At first, she had thought they were being attacked so she’d leaped from under her blanket brandishing her dagger. But when she’d seen no enemies her eyes went immediately to Gendry, he was writhing in his sleep, with the blanket kicked off, pained yells and grunts were escaping his lips. She’d right away dropped to his side and tried frantically to wake him from whatever nightmare was plaguing him.

 

    It’d taken a few seconds of shaking him before he came to fully, but when he did the look of terror, and agony in his deep blue eyes brought her almost to tears. She’d pulled him close to her as soon as she knew he was alright and felt hot tears on her cheeks then. He was her strong bull, she couldn’t stand to see him like this, not after everything they’d been through. She rubbed circles into his back, just like he’d done for her, hoping it would have the same calming effect on him.

 

    They’d sat together like that for a while until Gendry had finally fallen back asleep. But even then she’d stayed up all night watching him, running her hand soothingly anytime his face started to show any discomfort. It seemed to work, as the rest of the night passed with only the sounds of the forest, and Gendry’s light snores.

 

    Now they were riding again. They’d found the King’s Road and were heading South to find the River Road, which a shepherd had told them would go straight to Riverrun. Arya was leaning her head comfortably against Gendry’s broad chest, his left arm secure around her waist. At first, she’d wanted a horse of her own as soon as possible, but when he’d pulled her closer to him as they’d sped up, and she’d felt the strong rhythm of his heart. Well, she supposed having her own horse could wait a while longer.

 

    Anyways they weren’t likely to find a pony in the Riverlands now, with all the chaos and savagery brought by the mountain and his bandits. The whole time they’d ridden, in fact, the road was flanked with burnt fields, and pillaged homesteads. It made her sick, to think that this savagery was going unpunished. She only wished her father was still alive, he’d have brought Clegane to justice, he would have made right all the wrongs in the world and made himself king instead of that fat idiot or his evil son.

 

    Maybe Robb’d be king soon, she wondered what kind of king he’d be. He was a lot like father, but he wasn’t even a man yet, he didn’t have the calm, and maturity that their father had always possessed. Then again, he may never get to be king, that thought was scary. “Gendry?” she asked, “Who do you think’ll win the war?” He was silent for a bit, and she was about to ask if he’d heard when his answer came.

 

    “I’m not sure,” Which wasn’t a very reassuring reply. “Your brother’s won all the battles so far. But the Lannisters have gold, and they can definitely outlast the North.” The thought sent shivers up her spine. The Lannisters were cruel, she was certain their victory would mean terrible things for her family.

 

    “When I was Tywin Lannister's servant I heard a lot of his war council meetings. The Southern soldiers are afraid of Robb. They think he rides his direwolf, and that he can’t be killed. Lord Tywin asked what I thought.” Arya smiled as she remembered the look on the old bastard's face. “I told him anyone can be killed” Her smile widened as she heard Gendry’s hearty laugh from behind her.

 

    “You're quite something Arya” She felt her cheeks flush at the compliment, then scolded herself for the reaction. She hated how this dumb blacksmith could make her blush without even trying.

 

    “Shut up,” she said weakly, punching the arm holding her midriff, which only made him laugh more.

 

     They rode in silence for a while, watching the scenery at a fast walk taking in the strange clash of beautiful groves of oak, larch, and maple trees contrasted against burned holdfasts, and fields. The smoke turned the dusk sky to a sea of bloody reds and oranges. She felt Gendry shiver seeing it, though it was warm, and she knew he was recalling his awful dream. She held his arm tight to remind him he was safe, though she wasn’t sure which of them she was trying to convince more.

 

     Here she was, going south again. After all the pain she’d felt in her time below the neck all she wanted to do was turn and race home to Winterfell as fast as possible. _Fear cuts deeper than swords_ she heard one of her dancing masters mantras, she must not be afraid. She would not be afraid.

 

*****

 

    As the last rays of light were disappearing over the horizon they were about to stop to set up camp, when a familiar building came into view. “That’s the Crossroads Inn!” Arya said excitedly.

 

    “Where Hotpie is!” Gendry exclaimed, he kicked the horse into a run and they came to a stop outside. Gendry quickly hopped off and hitched the horse. As he helped Arya off she was excited beyond words. Together they pushed through the plain wooden door that Arya had passed through twice before, once on her way south with the Lannisters, then again going North fleeing the Lannisters.

 

    The inn wasn’t very crowded and they found a quiet corner away from too many prying eyes. Though as they sat she noticed a group of four men, they could only be soldiers by the way they were armed, though they bore no sigil. Arya craned her neck around trying to spot her old friend. She needn’t wait long, and soon the fat boy bumbled out of the kitchen holding a tray pilled far too high with food.

 

     “There he is!” She whispered loudly to Gendry who only smiled at their clumsy old companion as he somehow managed to unload all the plates without dropping a single one. As he was returning to the kitchen he spotted them and she waved. He quickly walked to them and it seemed his grin might split his face in two if it got any bigger.

 

     “‘alo!” He said with his thick flea bottom accent. “What’re you doin’ ‘ere?” Arya scooted over in her booth and he sat.

 

     “We're traveling to Rivverun, to bring Arya back to her family.” Hotpie looked confused.

 

     “Why’re you goin’ there, don’t ‘er folks live up in Winterhell?” Arya chuckled at his mispronunciation.

 

     “My mother and brother are in Rivverun.” He nodded “And its Winterfell, fell not hell”

 

     He cocked his head, “you sure?” She nodded.

 

     “Pretty sure” He looked unconvinced, and opened his mouth to speak when some yelling from the kitchen prompted him to flinch and excuse himself. He returned soon enough with two kidney pies, and a mug of ale for Gendry. He said they could stay in room 11 for tonight but then they’d have to start paying.

 

     “We won’t be here longer than a day” Gendry stated, Hotpie looked a little crestfallen, his mouth forming a small ‘o’. Arya shook her head at how oblivious Gendry was.

 

     “We have to get to my family,” Hotpie nodded morosely. “You could come with us! I’m sure my family could use a cook like you” He smiled but shook his head.

 

      “Nah, ‘ere’s always trouble ‘round you two, ‘m done wit’ adventures. Anyways, I like it ‘ere.” As if on queue more shouting erupted from the kitchens and he quickly scurried away, giving them a wave as he went. Arya sighed, and ate her pie dejectedly. Gendry gulped down his ale and stood.

 

     “I’ll go put the horses in the stable” She nodded wordlessly as he rose, a few crumbs falling from his tunic. She continued to pick at her kidney pie while the hubbub started to grow around her as more people were arriving off the King’s Road. She noticed as well that the soldiers had spotted her and they were giving her sideways glances. They made no move to approach her but she didn’t trust their stares.

 

     Just as she was sliding her dagger from its sheath under the table there was a loud bang from behind her and the room quieted significantly. She heard the clink of armour, and resisted the urge to turn as murmurs started around her.

 

     “Wench!” She heard someone call, “Bring us wine, and all the chickens you ‘ave!” The voice sounded strangely familiar, whoever it was was slowly crossing the room, closer and closer to her table. “All you peasants, out, now! We’re commandeering this inn.” She did know him! It was Poliver, the Lannister man that’d killed Lommy and taken Needle.

 

     She heard an old man’s voice from behind her. “We don’t obey you, Lannister filth.” He spat and then there was a crack and some crashing as the man was presumably struck.

 

     “See these colours you grey old fuck?” Poliver demanded. “Them’s the king's colours. Now fuck off ‘fore I knock those yellow teeth out your fat ‘ead.” All around chairs were pushed as people scrambled to leave. He continued across the room until she saw him in the corner of her vision. Just the sight of that squat ugly cunt made her knuckles white on the grip of her dagger. He turned to face her.

 

     “You deaf girl?” He asked, indignantly “I said get out!” She stayed where she was. “Oh, you’re in for it now.” His hand came toward her and she surged upward, grabbing his wrist with her right and plunging the dagger up and under his jaw, right where his neck met his skull. He stumbled back gurgling clawing at his throat as the blade slipped back out and the blood gushed forward.

 

     “You little bitch!” Another yelled she turned and saw another five Lannister men drawing their weapons. One swung at her and she rolled aside, _calm as still water_ she smashed a jug of ale over his head, he stumbled and she stabbed him in the side. He wrenched away shouting and the others approached. One hefted a crossbow taking aim, then a sword burst through his chest. He slid off and aside and behind him, Gendry was standing welding his stolen steel.

 

     Arya took advantage of their surprise and grabbed needle from Poliver’s belt. The man she’d stabbed slashed at her and she jumped back, before lunging, slashing at his sword hand making him drop his blade in pain. She heard Syrio speaking in her ear, _all men are made of water._ She rolled away from a punch, and past her foe, coming up on one knee and driving needle up into his unmailed armpit into his chest, killing him. _Good, quick as a snake._ She grinned at the memory of his approving smile, but when she looked up her grin disappeared. Gendry was hopelessly outmatched as two soldiers backed him farther out the front door, blood already dripping from his shoulder.

 

     A blade flashed in her vision and she flicked to her side, a blade was whistling down toward her but was stopped at the last second by another. _Dead,_ she heard Syrio tutt. Her eyes went to her rescuer, one of the soldiers that’d been giving her looks before the Lannisters barged in. As he and his comrades met with the Lannisters she rushed toward where Gendry was just barely fending off his assailant. She put needle through the back of one of their knees and he cried out, crumpling to the floor before she slit his throat with her dagger.

 

     From above her Gendry cried out, and saw he’d caught the enemy’s blade in his hip. She flared and lunged slashing at his wrist, but her rage threw off her aim, _calm as still water._ The soldier grabbed the back of her tunic then dropped her suddenly. She scrambled to her feet and saw one of the friendly soldiers has buried an axe in his collarbone. Gendry swayed beside her and she quickly grabbed him and pulled him inside as far as she could. One of the soldiers took his arm and helped her lay him flat on a table.

 

   His face was pale and his breathing ragged. “Gendry!” She leaned over him and his eyes found hers. She wanted to weep, his blue eyes were so full of pain, but it was clear he was trying to be strong.

 

     “Step aside girl,” a gruff voice said from behind her. “I can help him, move!” She stepped back, allowing the soldier access to her brave handsome bull. His head followed as she moved a small smile forming as he met her eyes once again. And she tried to smile back, but it felt more like a grimace as she saw the blood pouring from his hip and shoulder.

 

     Be strong, my sweet bull.


	3. Gendry

    Gendry woke, feeling stiff. Someone was holding his hand, and the light filtering through his eyelids was bright, as if he was outside under the sun. A light, warm breeze touched his face and he blinked his eyes open at last to see a beautiful view and for a moment, he thought himself in heaven. For where else could he be, from the balcony he reclined on a warm mid-morning sun shone across a forest of green, and beyond that sparkled across the surface of a fat, lazy, blue river.

 

    He must’ve died in that fight, he’d been outmatched in arms and skill, and was just barely managing to fend them off. As long as Arya had made it he would be happy. He let out a small sigh, it seemed to rouse the person next to him as their grip tightened on his hand in surprise. He turned and saw Arya’s big grey eyes staring in glee. She hugged him tight around the chest, and when she stepped back he saw a small tear tracing its way down her cheek. He smiled and lifted his arm to wipe it when his shoulder spasmed in pain.

 

    His vision turned white for a second and it took all he had not to cry out, still, he let slip a small, “Fuck”. Arya touched his arm and lowered it back to his side. She swept a lock of hair out of his face and the pain started to subside. “Aren't I dead?” Arya smiled weakly.

 

“Course your not dead, silly.” He reclined more in his chair, he was alive, and so was Arya. “What were you smiling about?” She asked.

 

“I was thinking, if the afterlife had you in it, dying might not be so bad after all.” She blushed like mad and swatted at his chest making him grin. “How am I alive, we were outmatched and outnumbered.” Then a door to his left swung open, and a man walked out.

 

He was tall and strong, but clearly old, with long grey hair, a wrinkled face, and tired eyes. When he spoke his voice was deep and strong, “My boys and I stepped in.” He crossed the balcony to stand in front of them, hands clasped behind his back. “Wylam snow, we're sellswords. We've been tracking you two since Harenhall.”

 

“Why?” Gendry asked, feigning confusion. “What's so special about us?” Wylam smiled knowingly.

 

    “Well for the past little while we’ve been tracking a pair of individuals. A small girl with brown hair and a tall young man with brown hair, riding together on one horse, traveling south. Last seen a few days from the Crossroads Inn.” He smirked and Gendry realized he was being ribbed. “If you see anyone else like that be sure to let me know, but I think it safe to assume you are Gendry Waters, and you.” He turned to Arya and dipped his head. “Milady you would be Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell.” They nodded, abashed, and Gendry made a mental note to be far more secretive around strangers.

 

    “So what if we are?” Arya retorted.

 

    “We’ve come to escort you to your family.” Gendry wasn’t surprised, it was just the brotherhood all over, except at least these men were honest with their intentions.

 

    “How can we trust you?” He asked, getting a shrug in return.

 

    “It doesn’t matter to me whether or not you trust us, we’re taking you to the Twins.” That caught Gendry off guard.

 

    “Why the Twins, Isn’t her brother in Rivverun?” Wylam shook his head.

 

    “Not anymore, they left a few days past for some wedding ceremony. We should leave soon enough, don’t want to miss the feast.” He smiled, and Gendry felt himself involuntarily smiling as well. It would seem their luck was finally turning.

 

*****

 

    It had taken a good few minutes for Gendry to mount his horse with his new injuries. And after several failed solo attempts not being able to use the left side of his body, he begrudgingly accepted Benny, one of the sellswords, help. They’d found a pony for Arya to ride. It made it easier to steer with both arms, but he missed having her close to him, she was reassuring, and he’d gotten quite used to the way she leaned back into his chest. Now as he rode he felt he was missing something.

 

    However seeing Arya riding ahead, the wind blowing her short hair every which way, a grin plastered across her face more than made up for it. He must’ve been staring because she turned her head and stuck her tongue out at him before galloping ahead. He had to laugh at the childishness of it, she really was still just a little kid at heart. He kicked his horse as well to try and match her pace but though she was riding just a pony he couldn’t catch her no matter how much he tried.

 

    She and her horse raced north ahead of him, in the shadows of the afternoon sun they seemed to be one being and he was suddenly struck with memories of his mother’s bedtime stories. There had been one about a half-horse half-man creature, they’d been incredible archers he remembered. The memory of his mother made his heart ache, he tried in vain once again to remember her face. He focused hard, the way her blonde hair had framed her face, but her features were just a haze.

 

    He squeezed his eyes shut trying to remember, his temples throbbed from the fruitless effort when a voice beside him wrenched him from his thoughts. “Keep your eyes on the road boy.” He looked beside him to where Wylam had spoken. “We’ve enough troubles without your horse breaking a leg.” He looked to the side of the road where he’d been drifting and saw what the old man meant. Along the side of the path, roots snaked around large rocks and holes making it easy for a horse to injure itself if the rider wasn’t careful.

 

    “Sorry,” He muttered, trying to look somewhere other than Wylam’s face. His feelings were mixed, while he and his men had saved them, he didn't enjoy being once more dragged around like cattle. He just hoped they wouldn’t get the chance to sell him to that witch again, it was doubtful he’d escape a second time.

 

    “You know,” Wylam’s voice brought him out of his musings. “you remind me of myself at that age. A young buck, full of spirit, chasing after a beautiful young girl but held back by a lack of coin, and a bastard's bad luck” Gendry felt his face redden, surely he didn’t mean Arya, he opened his mouth to protest but Wylam cut him off. “Oh you don’t think that’s it now, but trust me lad, soon enough she’ll be the only thing rattling around in that thick skull of yours. But when that time comes,” He turned to face Gendry as they rode, a somber air suddenly clouding his rugged features. “Don’t let anything take her from you, love like that never comes twice. Trust me, lad, the gods don't give second chances.”

 

He spurred his horse and rode ahead leaving Gendry with his ominous and confusing words. What was that old man talking about, he didn't love Arya, that was absurd. She was just an annoying girl he was traveling with, and anyhow his feelings wouldn't matter regardless because of her family. His nonexistent feelings that is. He shook his head and tried just to focus on the road ahead of him.

 

*****

 

Gendry day by the fire turning the spit, one of the sellswords was regaling Arya with a tall tale of adventure and battle, while his comrades butted in every few minutes to add useless details. She seemed to be enjoying herself regardless of the chaos as she gnawed on a rabbit haunch.

 

“Your stories are all bullshit, Mick.” One of the men said to the storyteller. “You never fucked lady Darry!” Mick was indignant.

 

“I did! And I woulda fucked ‘er twice too, but little did I know Lord Darry’s cut ‘is huntin’ short, decided ta come ‘ome early spend some time with the wife.” The other soldier, Barry cut him off.

 

    “Instead he comes ‘ome to this dumb twat leggin’ it through ‘is gardens away from the whole ‘ouse guard and one very unsatisfied lover.” There was raucous laughter at that, as Mick jumped to his feet.

 

    “You wanna back those words up?” Now Barry was up as well, a drunk grin across his face. Arya started the chant ‘fight! fight! fight!’ and soon they’d all joined.

 

    “Come on then baby dick!” Mick charged a punched him in the ribs, Barry retaliated by with a knee to gut and they started to grapple. They got each other into a headlock like fighting goats and it quickly became a pushing match. Gendry pulled his hare off the fire and started to tear into it while the drunk soldiers slipped about in the mud. Suddenly Barry dropped out of the headlock and dove forward at Mick’s waist tackling him lopsidedly into a thicket to laughs and cheers from the spectators.

 

    The victorious Barry rose and lapped up the attention with the same dumb grin. Gendry whistled in appreciation and tossed him one of the full wineskins from their saddlebags. He caught it and raised it in a salute before downing the whole thing.

 

    They all dozed off into a drunken sleep, with full bellies and sides aching from laughter. Before he slipped away into the dark Gendry heard Arya’s quiet reciting of her list from the bedroll next to him, The familiar prayer soothed him, it was a reminder that they had a goal, somewhere to aim for, however morbid a goal it may be.

 

*****

 

    “Where are we now?” Gendry was riding alongside Wylam. After a week of travel, he’d gotten used to the soldiers riding order. Barry and Wylam rode in the middle, Mick took up the rear, and Malic, the hunter, and tracker of the group rode ahead to scout.

 

    “Well, that river west of us is the Green Fork, and a straight shot west from here, across that river, is Oldstones” Gendry had never heard the name before.

 

    “Oldstones?” Barry joined the conversation from the other side of the road

 

    “Yeah, is an old ruin now. Used to belong to them Mudd lords, ‘till the Andals came along anyway.”

 

    “To answer your question Gendry, we’re about half of the way to the Twins.” Gendry nodded. From ahead of them Malic was approaching and signaled to stop. He trotted up to the four of them Arya riding alongside him. “What is it? Enemies?” Malic looked confused.

 

    “No. This is good boar country, thought we might stop for the day and go hunting.” Wylam sighed but shrugged.

 

    “It fine I suppose. Malic, take Gendry, the rest of us will set up camp.” They dismounted and Wylam took Gendry’s horses reins as he followed Malic toward the woods.

 

    “You ever hunted boar Gendry?” Gendry shook his head honestly. The hunter nodded and handed him a stout heavy spear, taking one for himself. “Bows won’t do. Follow me.” They trecked off the road into the dense thickets that lined the woods like a prickly green wall. “I’ve hunted here before, the boar is good and strong. There was one: big, white, huge tusks, and strong as anything, I tracked him around these woods for a week before we came face to face.”

 

    “Did you get him?” Malic shook his head and rolled back his right sleeve to reveal a long jagged red scar running the full length of his forearm.

 

    “He got me though.” Gendry grimaced at the old wound, the creature that did that must be some beast.

 

    “Think we’ll see him?” Malic scoffed, a rare thing for him.

 

    “Let’s hope not, trust me, a rookie like you should want nothing to do with that monster.” He was probably right, but there was something about the mythical nature of the beast, and the gruesome memories it stirred that aroused his basest instincts, and sent him jumping at every twig snap.

 

    After an hour of creeping and following pig trails, Malic stopped in his tracks in front of him and held up a hand for him to stop. “It can’t be” he muttered to himself and Gendry was about to question him when the bushes in front of them burst and a huge flash of white shot across their path. Malic stumbled backward and stood. Gendry followed suit, gripping his spear and searching the foliage around him for movement. “Left!” He whipped his head at the command and saw a monster of a white boar bearing down on him. “Gendry come on let’s leave!”

 

    Gendry stayed in place, not from fear though, he lowered his weight, solidified his stance, and took a deep breath. The beast was just a yard away now and time seemed to slow as he commenced his thrust. He could feel the wind in his hair, could smell the animal in front of him, could taste the sweat dripping into his mouth as he pushed off the ground throwing up leaves and drove the broad spear tip into the boar's muscular throat.

 

    Blood sprayed, painting the leaf litter crimson, the boar squealed, the thick spear shaft in his hands strained and snapped under the enormous pressure causing him to fall onto the blood-soaked earth below him. The beast tumbled, screeched, twitched, and was still. The intoxicating rush drained out of him as quickly as it had flooded in and he clutched his aching arms to his chest, and lay there, covered in blood, groaning on the forest floor.

 

    He was faintly aware of Malic bleeding the boar and getting it ready to carry as he tried to rub the pain out of his forearms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, first off I'm super sorry for not posting, I feel really bad about falling off schedule but I'm really gonna try to get back on track. Hope you enjoy the chapter, see ya.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will hopefully be posted every Sunday. Enjoy, yall!


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